


Slippery When Wet

by Caeseria



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Ass to Mouth, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Desperation, Enthusiastic Consent, Keith has a big dick, Lance booty week, Lance is a slutty boy, M/M, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Sex on a Car, Size Kink, Size Queen Lance (Voltron), Thongs - Freeform, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeseria/pseuds/Caeseria
Summary: Keith agrees to tutor Lance in remedial math for university, and expects to get paid.  Lance doesn't have the cash, so in return, he agrees to wash Keith's car for him instead.Keith holds out for three weeks before he can't take the sight of Lance's bouncy ass draped over his candy-apple red, soaped up car, and takes matters into his own hands. Literally.[A.k.a. the one where Lance is a tease and knows exactly how to get what he wants]
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 816





	Slippery When Wet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 4 of #bottomlanceweek on twitter. Thongs. :D
> 
> I am apparently unable to stop myself writing porn when it's anything to do with Lance's ass and Keith maybe getting to stick his tongue in it. :D
> 
> Also: I have been waiting since like, 1986 to use "slippery when wet" in a title somewhere!!! XD
> 
> Come hang out with me on twitter at caeseria_nsfw!!

So, Keith has a problem. Actually, it's more an arrangement, but with complications. 

He's agreed to tutor Lance McClain in math for the foreseeable future. Lance had missed a couple of weeks of classes – rumor says he had mono – and he needs to catch up if he wants to finish the year on schedule. Keith had agreed to help out, partly because he could do with the cash and partly because he's always been intrigued by Lance McClain, who's sexy as fuck and completely unobtainable. 

Keith finds Lance interesting; he's social and seems like a lot of fun, but has only a couple of super close friends. He's strangely inattentive in class on occasion, yet is a veritable fount of knowledge on things he enjoys. He's hotter than hell (and he knows it), is loose with his charms, but never dates.

It's hard not to want a piece of Lance; the problem is, Lance has never offered.

So, here they are. Sitting in Keith's room, late evening sunlight pouring through the windows. Keith closes his math textbook and leans back in the chair. "Okay, that's it for today," he says, stretching his arms above his head and arching his back, trying to get the kinks out of his neck.

Next to him, Lance sighs. He drops his head into his hand, drumming his pencil on his open textbook. "Why can't our teacher explain stuff like you do? It's much easier this way."

Keith huffs, dropping his hands into his lap and pushing his chair back, relaxing a little. He crosses one ankle over his thigh. "It's just a different way of looking at it I suppose? I dunno. Anyway, you owe me a twenty, hand it over." Keith's a broke sophomore; he has zero shame when it comes to cold, hard cash.

Lance slips his hands through his hair, mussing it up and grinning. He looks a little sheepish. "Ahhhhh, yeah, about that."

"What?" Keith turns to face him, frowning. "We had a deal. You pay me, I teach you, you pass the class you are failing and go on to have a long, successful career doing whatever it is you want to do."

Lance closes his text book and he turns to Keith. In the process, their knees bump together, and it sends a stupid, warm thrill through Keith. Lance doesn't move away, just lets his knee rest there, thigh warm against Keith's. "Um, we could do another deal?" Lance says after a moment. He bites his lip, like he's nervous. His eyes travel over Keith's body, quick and unsure, like he knows he's being watched and is still unable to stop himself. "I could suck your cock instead? I'll even swallow, just cause it's you."

"What?" Keith shifts suddenly, sitting up ramrod straight, mouth hanging open. His dick is interested, sure; because it gives an interested twitch in his pants. His brain, however, says this is a really, really bad idea. "I'm not gonna let you blow me," Keith growls.

Lance pouts; like, honest to god looks upset it's not gonna happen. He picks up his pencil, bouncing it off his plump bottom lip while he weighs Keith up. "Which part of me blowing you are you having problems with?" he asks. "Do you have morals, or are you straight?"

"I have morals!" Keith exclaims.

Lance narrows his eyes. "That's what I thought."

"What the hell does that mean?" Keith splutters. He turns to face Lance fully, pushing his thigh away. It's childish, but it makes him feel better. 

"Nope, never mind; the moment's passed," Lance announces, holding up a hand. He seems to lose focus for a moment, staring out the window, past Keith's shoulder. "Hey… is that your Trans Am in the driveway?"

Confused, Keith swivels around to look outside. "Er, yeah?"

" _Damn_ ," Lance says. He sounds impressed, slightly reverent. "Can I – okay, how about this instead?" Keith turns back around, because Lance sounds excited, which is… curious. "Money's a little tight, so I could wash your car for you once a week after our lessons are finished?"

Keith has a visceral image of Lance in his shorts, bent over the hood of Keith's car and soaping it, and himself, up in the process. "Okay," he blurts.

Lance slams his text book shut and jumps up. "Awesome! Thanks, man. You have no idea how much the tutoring helps me. I promise to make it up to you properly." He winks. Lance looks genuinely ecstatic at the idea, and Keith can't decide if Lance is just happy he's not going to have to pay Keith in cash or if he just wants to pet Keith's car. 

Either way, Keith feels kinda like he's been taken advantage of, dammit.

* * *

Keith _is_ being taken advantage of. He knows it now, without a doubt. 

Lance has a thing for his car. 

Every Saturday afternoon, Lance comes over, they work through the math problems Keith has set out, and then they share a vodka cooler or two while Keith watches Lance soap up his car.

It's week three of hell for Keith. Three Saturday's worth of watching Lance prance around with a hose in one hand, soaping up Red, cooing softly to her, and then waxing her up when he's finished. It's a good job he keeps the car parked in the back, the driveway hidden by a bank of tall shrubs, and nobody can see what's going on. He has no idea what his neighbours would think; Lance is pretty much a heart attack waiting to happen to anyone with a working sex drive.

Keith tries to rationalize things thusly: one, his car looks fucking awesome, like it's been professionally detailed. Two, he gets to hang out in the back yard and have a couple of drinks with Lance, who continues to be funny, sexy and interesting; a never-ending source of anecdotes and rambling stories. 

It's a win, win, really. 

Except for the part where Keith really, _really_ wants to bend Lance over the hood of his car and fuck him six ways until next Sunday, until the poor boy is screaming in ecstasy.

Because today, Lance has gone all out. No holds barred, taking no prisoners. Keith thinks he might expire from all the blood rushing south to his dick. He wonders if that's actually a thing that can happen, because he feels a little light headed.

The weather's especially hot today, so Lance had arrived this morning in a pair of tight white stretchy shorts, a white tank top, and little else, other than the thin gold chain he wears around his neck. Their math lesson was half-hearted and perfunctory, getting the work done quickly so they could head outside. They sit and chat, and eventually, after the first cooler, Lance gets up and gets down to work.

And Keith kicks back to watch.

 _Oh god_ , does he watch.

Lance has become fairly familiar over the last three weeks with where everything is kept, and Keith leaves him to it while he goes to get them new drinks. When he comes back out, he has to set both bottles on the table carefully, because he's having a really hard time multitasking here.

Lance is bent over the hood of Keith's apple red Trans Am, shorty shorts riding up to reveal a pair of luscious brown thighs, his ass cheeks spilling out of the bottom. The shorts are stretchy, but they appear to be taxed to the limit as Lance puts them through their paces. He has to lean over the hood, which is quite wide, going up on tiptoe and balancing on one foot to reach the far edge. The movement thrusts his ass out, and the hem of the shorts cut into the swell of his bottom, until it looks like the fabric might split open under the stress. 

Keith makes a noise like a small, wounded animal and Lance glances over his shoulder, eyes alight with mischief and grinning like he knows exactly what Keith's thinking. "See something you like, babe?" he teases, giving Keith a wink.

It's the wink that does it. Keith is a weak man; there's only so much grade A ass he can handle without imploding on the spot. 

Keith sinks into his chair and watches as Lance bends down, dipping the sponge into the bucket of soapy water, getting it nice and full, and then brings it up. There's a cascade of warm water over the side of the car as he brings the sopping wet sponge down, and then he's back at it, shifting a little until he's directly in Keith's line of sight, leaning back over the car and moving his arm in wide, smooth arcs to get as much coverage as he can. Every time he pushes the soapy sponge across the hood, his ass jiggles with the movement. Keith can see how the water soaks into Lance's t-shirt and, as if by osmosis, into the white fabric of his shorts. 

Keith bites his lip so hard it stings.

Lance is doing a good job of getting the water everywhere, especially when he hoses off the rear of the car. Keith can't look away, riveted to the way Lance's thighs and legs glisten with water droplets. His shirt is wet now, fabric heavy and sticking to his washboard abs, revealing a strip of brown skin and the shadowed V of his hipbones. His shorts are also soaked, and as Keith sits there, he can start to make out a darker shadow beneath the white shorts. By the time he's moved back in front of Keith, his shorts are almost translucent from the water. And holy shit, that's a thong he's wearing under those shorts, isn't it?

Keith's mouth goes dry, imagining getting his hands on Lance's ass, playing with that thong.

Lance is almost done; he reaches down for the bucket, and a stray glob of sudsy foam poofs out of it, floating through the air. It lands high on the curve of Lance's ass as he leans across the hood, and Keith's had enough. He's up and out of his chair in a heartbeat, crossing the patio and coming up behind Lance, helpless to resist.

Lance shifts and looks over his shoulder, grin still in place. "Took you long enough," he says, pushing his ass back toward Keith's outstretched hand. "I thought I might have to start peeling layers of clothing off next just to get your attention."

"What?" Keith pauses, not understanding.

Lance sighs. "You really think I wanna spend my Saturdays washing your car, Kogane? I expected you to bend me over the hood of your damn Trans Am that first afternoon."

"Why didn't you just say so?" Keith splutters, holding up his hands in surrender. (Also, he's kinda worried if he doesn't keep his hands in sight he'll do something inappropriate, like try to grab at the booty).

"I _did_!" Lance cries, turning around and brandishing the soapy sponge. "I offered to suck your cock and you said _no_! A boy's gotta get creative; it's not often I get turned down. Ever, actually," he muses. "Anyway, soaping up your car seemed like a good way to get what I wanted."

Keith huffs out a laugh, which fades into appreciation when he takes in Lance in his glorious, messy, beautiful self. His tank top is ruined, soaked through, and his nipples are hard peaks beneath the damp fabric. Keith wants to drop to his knees, lick across that stripe of skin visible at his waistband. Underneath the shorts, he can see the blue of Lance's thong, and the swell of his dick filling it out. Quite generously, he notes.

"Can I – " Keith says, stepping forward, reaching out.

"Yes," babbles Lance, meeting Keith halfway, snaking his hand around Keith's waist and pulling him in. Keith goes willingly, pressing up against Lance's lean, wet body, and damn, you know what? Keith doesn't care if he gets soaking wet, because _holy shit_ , Lance McClain kisses like an angel, all soft, teasing nips and tentative kisses, right up until he decides that's enough and slips Keith some tongue. Keith moans in the back of his throat and starts to back Lance up toward the Trans Am. Lance gets a hand in the back pocket of Keith's jean shorts and squeezes, and for a moment, Keith feels like he's in high school, making out with his boyfriend and sneaking cheap gropes at each other whenever they can. He can feel a smile form against Lance's lips, and he pushes forward, deepening the kiss, getting his hands on Lance's generous ass and squeezing back, caging him in against the side of the car.

" _Mmhmmfuck_ ," Lance moans into the kiss, sliding his hands over Keith's backside and up to his waist, hands grabbing and pulling like he wants it all and can't decide where to start. Keith nips his way down Lance's jaw to his neck, sucks at the skin there just to leave a red mark, and Lance gasps, pushing his hips forward, rubbing up against Keith in a filthy grind. And damn, Lance is getting hard. Keith can feel the hard line of his cock through that damp fabric, and he wants it. Wants to get his hands on it. Wants all of Lance, everything he can have.

"Let me suck you off," Keith says in between kisses. 

Lance giggles, and it's such an endearing sound, oh my god. "Um, _no_ ," Lance says. "How about you fuck me instead?" He slips his hand between them, stroking his fingers along the zipper of Keith's jean shorts, teasing. Keith's half-hard already, and the added pressure against his cock has him filling out against Lance's fingers. Lance makes a noise of appreciation, looking down between where their bellies are pressed together. "Damn, Kogane, I always knew you were packing, but that's impressive." Lance sounds breathless, hungry for it. The next time he strokes upward, he makes sure to use his palm, getting as much of a feel for the size of it as he can, curling his fingers around it. "Okay, maybe I do want to blow you after all."

"Too much talking, not enough actual doing," Keith complains breathlessly. He takes Lance by the wrist, pulls it up and places a kiss on his palm. Lance blushes, mouth open in surprise. "Now turn around and bend over like a good boy," Keith says with a smirk. He drops Lance's hand, grabs him by the hips, and manhandles him around until he has Lance pressed down over the hood of the car. 

Lance moans, rolls his hips up and presents his ass like a ripe peach for the taking. _Fuck_ , Keith's brain can't handle the sight; it's too much. He drapes himself along Lance's back, reaching around and popping the button on Lance's shorts. "You good with this?" he asks, placing kisses along Lance's nape, nipping along his spine until he reaches the neck of Lance's tank top and can't go any further. He snakes a hand underneath the tank to feel all that glorious, smooth skin, to brush his fingers over Lance's hard nipples and feel him jolt with pleasure at the sensation. 

Lance pushes his ass back into the cradle of Keith's hips, grinds back in a circular motion until he can get Keith's fat erection right where he wants it. He stares at Keith over his shoulder, his blue eyes honest and bright with desire, and he licks his lips, says, "I'm _very_ good with this. Don't stop."

And with that, Keith slips his fingers in the waistband of Lance's shorts and pushes them down, letting them drop to the ground so Lance can kick them to the side. Keith shrugs off his own shirt, because damn, he wants to be able to feel all of Lance beneath him when they fuck, wants to feel skin on skin, feel the damp of Lance's exertion and the warmth of their desire. He pushes his hands over the swell of Lance's backside and leans back so he can cup his ass cheeks, feel the weight of them, that mouth-watering jiggle of soft fat over hard muscle. He rolls his hips forward, pressing his clothed cock between the cleft of Lance's cheeks where the thin string of the thong disappears. He plucks at it with his fingers, and Lance wiggles a little, impatient. 

"Come on," Lance huffs. "Gimme something, babe, please."

Keith would be lying if he said being called _babe_ wasn't affecting him in some kind of visceral way. It's the promise of hard sex, of chasing an orgasm, all wrapped up in a cutsie nickname, like wrapping hardcore porn in a fleece blanket and marking it PG13.

"Oh, I'm gonna give you something," Keith sasses. He tugs the thong to the side, stares down at Lance's hole, and tries not to come on the spot like a teenager. Fuck, Keith had no idea a single string of fabric could be such a turn on. Maybe it's not so much the thong itself, but the way it accentuates the swell of Lance's ass. Maybe it's the way it hugs his crease, attempts to hide but only highlights his twitching, greedy hole. 

Keith doesn't think twice, simply pulls the fabric out of the way, leans down and swipes a single, wet stripe along Lance's crease, from his balls all the way up over his entrance. He circles his tongue around it, getting it nice and wet, listening to the little noises of surprise Lances makes, and then his moans and whimpers. He works Lance over, swiping his tongue over his hole, feeling it soften enough that he can spear his tongue deeper, fucking him in sharp thrusts. Lance reaches back and holds himself open with one hand, and Keith can now stroke down over Lance's balls where they've spilled out of the confines of the thong, play with them. Lance is restless under Keith's touch, rolling his hips back onto Keith's tongue one moment, arching his back the next, like he can't decide what he wants. When Keith chances a look, Lance is flushed; he looks wrecked, bottom lip swollen as if he's been biting it, trying to stay quiet, his eyes are bright, pupils blown wide. His chest is pressed against the hood of the car, free hand clenched tight.

"How you doing there, _babe_?" Keith says.

If Lance didn't look like he'd just seen god, he'd probably sass Keith for the nickname thing. As it is, he just keens, pushing his ass back toward Keith, presenting it nice and high, and in the process leaving Keith with no doubt what he wants. "Put it in me, Keith," Lance breaths. "Gimme that fat cock."

Well, Keith's not gonna argue with that. He undoes his jean shorts, pushing them down enough to get at his underwear (he's a sensible boy and is actually wearing sensible underwear, so what?) and pulls out his dick.

Lance moans, clear and loud when he sees Keith's cock, and for a moment, Keith hopes none of his neighbours are actually around to hear them.

"Oh my god," Lance exclaims, eyes widening. 

Keith glances down. "What?" he says.

Lance pauses and then says, "Wow, you are _definitely_ a grower. That's – that is… _Jesus_."

"Wanna change your mind? It's okay if you do," Keith offers. He's used to it; he's got a big dick and not everyone is comfortable trying to take it all.

Lance shakes his head, leaning up on one elbow on the hood. "Oh, no. I want it," he replies. "Fuck, do I ever want it." He shakes his ass for emphasis, and Keith grins. He gives his cock a stroke, just to watch the way Lance follows the movement, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with arousal. He pulls a packet of lube from his back pocket (Yeah, he's prepared, sue him, okay) and tears it open with his teeth, slicking his hand up. Like this his strokes are easier over his own cock, the glide smoother and fuck, it feels good. He reaches out and circles Lance's hole with a slicked finger. His rim is still soft, hole opening for Keith easily, and he slips one finger in, pumping it slowly just to watch it disappear up to the last knuckle. Lance moans, head dropping back down onto the hood of the car, pushing his ass up into Keith's thrusts. 

Keith adds another finger, lube squelching obscenely as he opens Lance up. Lance is now a shivering, pleading mess, meeting him thrust for thrust, ass nice and loose, smooth like hot silk. Keith can't wait to get in him.

Lance is getting desperate when Keith adds a third finger; he's like a livewire, vibrating with need, pushing himself onto his tippy toes to get more control, even as Keith has a solid grip on the bare skin of his hip to keep him steady. " _Pleasepleaseplease_ , Keith," Lance is begging, "Come on, give it to me."

And yeah, Keith doesn't think can hold out much longer either. He pulls his fingers free, and steps forward, presses the tip of his cock against Lance's shivering hole. 

"Shit, Lance, keep still," Keith huffs out. He keeps one hand on Lance's bottom – rather like you would a flighty pony when you want them to know where you are – and slicks up his cock in quick, smooth movements with some extra lube. He takes the opportunity to stroke his hand across Lance's ass cheek, feeling the weight of it, prolonging the moment and savouring it. 

"Are you gonna fuck it or admire it?" Lance whines. He looks over his shoulder at Keith, and damn, isn't that a sight? He's flushed, hair messy, the strap of his tank top sliding down one wet, brown shoulder.

"Both," Keith says, and slides the tip of his cock between Lance's cheeks, getting it nice and slick, spreading the lube around. Lance makes a humming noise, pushing back. They both gasp when the tip of Keith's cock presses in, breaches that first ring of muscle. He doesn't stop, keeps it nice and slow, hands on Lance's hips to keep him steady.

"Oh fuck," Lance whimpers, dropping his head down. "Oh fuck, that's good. You're so damn big."

Keith grits his teeth and tries not to push forward too quickly. Lance is rocking his ass backward in tiny, abortive movements, fucking himself onto Keith's cock in increments, letting out little gasping puffs of breath as he trembles from the effort.

"You okay?" Keith asks, letting Lance take the lead. He leans forward enough to stroke his fingers through Lance's hair, checking on him, and slides in another inch.

"It's a lot," Lance admits in a breathy, high-pitched tone. "Oh god, it's a _lot_."

"Go slow," Keith coaches. "You can take it, I know you can."

Lance keens, clenches his ass, and then relaxes into it. Keith has him now, can slide in the rest of the way with ease. His hips meet the fat of Lance's ass cheeks, pressing in, and Keith's finally home the whole way. He rocks forward, hips ticking slowly in a circle, getting Lance used to the fullness. Lance is breathing hard; looks like he's seen nirvana at last. He's pushing back on Keith's cock, restless and impatient, and Keith grits his teeth, because _Jesus Christ_ , Lance is testing both his stamina and his ability to not come on the spot.

Keith grips Lance's hips and pulls out slowly, pushing back in in long strokes, making sure Lance can feel every single inch of the fat cock he's being fed. The noises Lance makes are incredible, heavy, fast breaths as he struggles with the penetration, hands clenching at the slippery hood of Keith's car, searching for purchase. "Don't stop, don't stop," Lance is chanting, back bowing, forehead dropping onto the paintwork. "Fuck me nice and hard, come on."

Keith circles his hips, takes a moment to decide if that's a good idea, and feels the clutch of Lance's ass around his cock, the way it gives under his movements. Fuck, he's gonna do it, isn't he? He can't remember the last time he was balls deep in someone who could actually take it, and he's gonna make the most of it. 

This time when he pulls back, he thrusts back in, hard. Lance gasps, breathless and high, scrabbles at the car. He goes right up on his toes, and Keith thrusts in again, building up a steady, unrelenting rhythm, snapping his hips forward. He digs his fingers into the meat of Lance's hips and ass, drives into him, bending over to press his bare chest against Lance's back, pushing his tank up to his shoulders and out of the way. He's starting to get a good rhythm now, a decent pace, and the suspension on the car rocks, pushing Lance back onto his cock every time he thrusts in. Both of them are moaning now, a dramatic, pornographic duet that carries across the backyard. Screw the neighbours; Keith is dishing out the fucking of a lifetime and he doesn't really care who hears them.

That's when the car alarm goes off.

It's loud, and obnoxious, and suddenly Lance is both sobbing with laughter and moaning on a particularly hard thrust and Keith can't keep himself together, trying not to crack a grin even as his fat cock rubs over Lance's prostate. Lance shudders sweetly beneath him.

"Oh fuck, Keith, the alarm," Lance giggle-moans. "Turn it off."

"Dunno – " Keith thrusts, _fuck that feels good_ , "dunno where the keys are." He pulls out on a whim, ignoring Lance's protest, and picks him up around the waist, sitting his ass on the edge of the car just above the wheel well. He scoots Lance forward and lines up, pushing back in with a deep, hard thrust that almost pushes Lance across the hood.

"Oh shit, fuck, Keith," Lance sobs, dropping back onto his elbows, wrapping his thighs around Keith's waist and tightening his grip so they don't slide off.

There's a brief chirping noise and the silence is suddenly deafening as the alarm switches off. Keith whips his head up, seeing a shadow from the kitchen; giving a quick wave before disappearing.

"Is that – was that, _ahhhh_!" Lance shudders on another one of Keith's thrusts. 

"My brother," Keith half-explains. "Scarred for life now, no doubt." Still, with the alarm blessedly off, Keith can concentrate on fucking Lance properly. He increases his speed, not so much thrusting now as simply fucking hard and fast into Lance. 

Lance is making breathy, fucked out noises of enjoyment. Little _ah, ah, ah!_ sounds, deep from the back of his throat. He's gotten one hand wrapped around Keith's neck, pulling him closer as he fucks into Lance's ass. Keith can't help it; he leans down and wraps his lips around a peaked, hard nipple, nipping at it and sucking. Lance arches his back, thrusts his chest forward as Keith lathes his tongue over it. The movement pushes Lance deeper onto Keith's cock, and suddenly, Keith is very, very close to release.

"Lance," he huffs out. "Tell me you're close."

" _Mmmfuckyeah_ ," Lance hums. "I'll come when you do."

Keith doesn't need a second invitation. He jackrabbits his hips, eyes squeezed shut in sheer joy at how beautifully Lance's ass clutches around him, tightening as Lance gets closer to orgasm. Keith opens his eyes, kisses his way up to Lance's neck, finds his lips and kisses him hard. They're too worked up to finesse it; it's simply a messy exchange of teeth and tongue, breathing hard against each other's lips. 

The car is rocking hard now; but Shiro must have disabled the alarm somehow, because it doesn't go off again. Lance arches into Keith's frantic thrusts, flexing his thigh muscles around his waist, and whimpers. 

"C'mon _Pontiac_ ," Keith blurts out, "Come for me."

"Oh fuck, you asshole," Lance cries, eyes squeezing shut, throwing his head back. He comes, release painting the front of his thong, seeping out onto his stomach. He clamps down on Keith's cock as he rides his orgasm, and that's it for Keith – he's coming hard, _so_ fucking hard, shooting into Lance's hole, filling him up.

Both of them collapse back against the hood, breathing hard. Keith doesn't think he's gonna be able to loosen his grip on Lance's glorious ass and hips any time soon; he's content to just rest here for the moment, bare ass exposed to the afternoon sunlight.

Lance kicks him with his heel in one butt cheek. "I can't believe you called me Pontiac," he pouts.

Keith rubs his face between Lance's glorious pecs and thinks about maybe licking over one of his pert nipples. "Can't believe you _came_ when I called you Pontiac," he retorts. That earns him another kick to the backside.

"Um, so is your brother gonna give you crap for fucking in the backyard?" Lance sounds a little hesitant, and he tightens his arms around Keith's back.

Keith snorts. "No, he's gonna give me crap for waking him up from his nap by setting off the car alarm. I've heard some of the shit he does in the backyard with his boyfriend when he thinks no-one's around, trust me."

"Oh my god," Lance looks up at Keith, clearly curious as hell.

"No, no we are not taking a page from his book and fucking in the backyard later," Keith says, suddenly cluing in.

Lance pouts. "But, Keith, I wanna suck that cock. I gotta see if I can fit the whole thing in my throat. It's like, a _challenge_ at this point."

"Jesus, Lance, you are gonna kill me," Keith says, feeling his cock twitch deep inside Lance. 

Lance definitely feels it, feels Keith start to harden again. He smirks, and wiggles his ass. "Wanna make a bet your brother didn't disable the car alarm properly and we can set it off again?" he asks with a raised eyebrow and a grin.

Keith's gut reaction is to say no, but then he remembers he's still _buried inside Lance's fabulous ass_ and has him pinned to a hard surface.

Yeah, maybe that's a bet Keith's willing to take after all.


End file.
